Who Comes By Far

The horizon from the highest hill is the useless
Edge Of The World when you don’t travel.

You meet people who come by far,
So they must be heroes; so I believe you’re a Rider
Passing to the Sun’s Door…though you tell me,
You once knew so cold a land the clouds froze
And fell from the sky, and the People
Wore heavy skins.

Still, I look at your hands
Warm and dark with the candle,
And can barely imagine
What I’d think their color by Dragon’s Fire,
Leave alone the morning sun.

Then you turn in our shadows as if to say,
You’ve begun your liking of me,
So tonight you’ll stay.

 

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7 thoughts on “Who Comes By Far

  1. You know…this is weird. I was going through your poetry (by the way you should post some more)…and I did not realize I commented before, I do love this poem, this piece is beautiful and vivid

  2. Thanks, Enreal! I’m experiencing a bit of a drought in poetry. Perhaps you can help with that. What do you do to get yourself in a mindset to write poems?

  3. You know…I chose a word or a few words I like…then I write. To me writing is about the words, words are beautiful.

    Think about the power a word can hold. Letters strung together imposing a feeling, meaning, knowledge. A word so powerful it can break a heart or cure a war. A word is like the paint dripping on a canvas, a finger strumming the strings of a cello.

    I chose a word and then I write. I let the words paint a canvas on my soul and awaken the melody in my song.

    That was fun…now get to your poetry!!!

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